Stairway to Heaven
by Solita
Summary: Two men, both from different worlds, meet together by chance as they walk down the road and towards the stairway of their salvation. A Cowboy Bebop / Trigun introspective crossover. One - shot.


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He looked above and saw a gold sky instead of blue.  
  
To him, it seemed very awkward. Strange and odd. Other connotations of the word. It dwindled in his mind for some time now, the thoughts and contemplation's lingering softly, haunting keys from a melody played beforehand. How long he had been pondering on the puzzling question the young man of nearly thirty years wasn't positive. He never took notice to time anyhow.  
  
He blinked and saw silky clouds of ivory sailing above him. A bewildered look overcame his face as he now wondered where the clouds came from. But his attention was still focused on the sky, illuminated gold instead of blue.  
  
How can the sky be gold instead of blue? He still wondered as he slowly moved his head to the right and stared above, eyes fixated upon the ceaseless blanket of misplaced gold.  
  
Of course he knew that in this world, beyond the mortality fields below him, everything was supposed to be different. However, he wanted to waste time. Time got pissed at him when he did. He didn't care or mind, though. He liked time getting mad. It was actually fun.  
  
For a man like himself talking of time in personification was unnatural of him and even peculiar. Then again, aimlessly walking around in the afterlife with a bunch of pissed - off angels hunting you down because you didn't follow directions was bizarre enough.  
  
Being dead wasn't as painful as humanity thought. He had died peacefully. He couldn't even remember the gash of the blade or the bullet holes that decorated his body in an undesirable fashionably chic style. It was painless. Even as he fell and said his final word, his eyes had drooped down as if he was falling asleep. He was going to dream again and he knew that when he woke up, he would be in the real world. While dying, he was completely content with that fact.  
  
It wasn't exactly as he thought. In the beginning of his death, the experience he felt at first was extraordinary. Not even the motion pictures of millions of years had ever pictured death like this.  
  
He felt rejuvenated, reborn again, the touch and scent of pristine life being sent away and above the world he knew. He had been ascending in his dream world, going higher and higher in the blue sky, watching the clouds of singular shapes and sizes pass him by. He felt like a child, innocent and naive, watching and laughing and having the joy he hadn't known for a long time.  
  
He didn't want it to end. It was too surreal. Unimaginable. Unthinkable. Simply amazing. But his star eventually faded, and so did his time in the dream world. It was time for him to wake up and live.  
  
And when he woke up, he was still in a dream.  
  
The irony almost made the young man want to smash his skull against a brick wall. He ended up in an elongated line that seemed as endless as the sea down on Mars. He happened to be at the back of this certain line, which didn't seem to fit well with him. The minute he reached this reception desk called "Judgment," the man was given directions to go to Heaven immediately and promptly.  
  
He didn't pay attention, though. It's not like he never does. Sometimes he does listen. When he feels like it. It was just one of those days for him. This time he bluntly disregarded and ignored the angels that told him where to go. He was confused and amazed at how gorgeous and intriguing this place was.  
  
He was supposed to go directly to the wonderful paradise known as Heaven. He was supposed to end his misery and enter paradise. But there was one thing that annoyed him before he could leave this world for the next, and hopefully final one.  
  
Why in the world was the sky gold instead of blue?  
  
So that's the reason why he was here. To figure out the answer. For every question asked there has to be an answer. Someone said a quote similar to that, but he failed to recall who, though. Either that, or he just made an intelligent sentence. The afterlife did do some good on him is how he concluded the hypothesis.  
  
He'd seen and learned a lot of things as he lurked around the palace of Judgment. The wonders and adventures he'd taken the liberty to join and understand was all worth wild. But he knew sooner or later he would have to leave. Leave and join those he left behind in the dream world who probably joined the real world above him in the golden sky.  
  
He would eventually have to walk the stairway to Heaven.  
  
It was hilarious to him that a song he heard on the radio numerous times down on Mars was used up here in Judgment. Instead of flying right up to those pearly gates by just gaining wings and a halo, you actually had to walk right up through the golden sky and your salvation. The song he remembered spoke of man's search for salvation, and up here in Heaven the stairway was the only way to reach that certain goal.  
  
He wouldn't have any regrets when he felt like walking up the stairway to heaven. He'll go to his own salvation and freedom and happiness when he wants to. After all, you are only dead once. Or twice if you die when you become reincarnated. He didn't want to be born again. He liked to do things once and only once.  
  
That didn't count for the number of times he put himself in danger and others in danger, though.  
  
His hands were in his pockets as his lips itched to either whistle a tune or taste a cigarette. All he could do was stand and stare. The gold above him that didn't fit at all with his mental image of a typical, ordinary sky constantly irked him. The clouds that seemed to appear and disappear like Hodini appeared to be toying with him.  
  
It was almost like the sky was playing a game with him.  
  
He chuckled as he walked on, still looking up at the golden sky with the disappearing and reappearing clouds. The afterlife was a little screwed up, but for some reason he had been expecting it.  
  
Maybe it was the fact of the constant reminder of how screwed up his life back when he was alive that seemed to prove a justified irony to his journey in death. It made him smile. The sky made him smile. Not fake, not real, just smile. He felt whole when he did that.  
  
The afterlife did that to him. Make him feel whole. Or seem that he felt whole. Or maybe he actually was whole. Julia, after all, was waiting for him. His other half. And she'd be waiting right above him in paradise, lost and gone astray in the golden sky.  
  
The sky beckoned to him to walk the stairway. It wanted him to walk the stairway and feel what a golden sky felt like. Touch it, smell it, hear it, see it. The sky in the afterlife had a certain taste about it too. Lollipops and summer and even little peppermint candies that he remembered as a child that melted in his mouth. Usually he'd be the one to steal those precious candies when he was on Mars, running in fear of the trouble he put himself through again and grinning madly at the joy he was about to taste. It was all worth wild.  
  
Just how it was worth wild to partake in this journey through demise.  
  
He kept on smiling. Irony had a way of doing that to him too.  
  
Now he knew Irony has a grip on life, and on death as well.  
  
He didn't want to leave this world yet. He wanted to stay just a little bit longer. He didn't want to go and leave for the stairway. His family and friends were waiting, but he didn't want to go. Heaven was marriage to him.  
  
It was final. You couldn't leave. You couldn't escape. You stay in Heaven, your paradise, and you stay for good. No ifs, and's, or but's. It was the same with marriage. You're with this woman. You get hitched. You don't part until you both die and your both together in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer and all that piece of crap. It had a contract and you had to follow it.  
  
Heaven says they have a convent. Marriage has a contract. People say that there is a difference between the two, but to the young man walking aimlessly yet again in Judgment, he thought it was full of shit. To him, both signed your fate and destiny and the next millions of years you spend.  
  
And for some weird reason right now, he thought for a second or two that the sky above that was astray with gold smelt like a lit cigarette. He shook his head and kept smiling. He seriously needed a smoke. Badly.  
  
All of a sudden he kissed the ground and said hello.  
  
It was right there and then that the young man just happened to trip over something. That something happened to be a supremely gigantic object that somehow, someway he didn't see from beforehand. Maybe it was because of him staring at the sky yet again. He sighed as he shook his head, clearing his mind at the same time. He was starting to get tired of the maybe factors.  
  
Before he could continue with his contemplation's, a voice casually said to him, "Mercy, my friend, is something to look out for." His voice was choked with cigarette stains and past melodies from a session forgotten, but he paid no attention to him.  
  
The young man kept his voice silent. He merely stood up and put his hands in his pockets and began to walk away again. Certainly it was the first "human" contact he had had with someone for years, but it wasn't his style to linger on. He was a bird, free and soaring into the unknown and the Nether, leaving those behind him without a single thought lingering.  
  
"Mercy?" he asked as he walked away, the urge to whistle the tune from that song on Mars coming back to haunt him. He exited a short and curt laugh as he added to his question, "I don't look for or need mercy."  
  
"What a shame," he heard the man speak. A curt laugh similar to his own emitted from his voice as the man whispered audibly, "Not very faithful, are you?"  
  
He could imagine either a grim look on the man's face or a smile of contentment. He had the latter on his own face. "I need a cigarette."  
  
The other man's eyes closed. A growling sigh emitted, the throat hungry for the toxins. "So do I."  
  
Without another word, the ex - bounty hunter turned around and sat next to the man and, from what he found out, a gigantic version of a crucifix. It was draped in a beige cloth or canvas (he couldn't tell), strips of brown leather decorating all around it. It covered the face of the man next to him, wearing a dark outfit all too similar to his own. The cuffs of his outfit dawned white crosses, and his skin was a healthy shade of tan. From the form of his body, the young man could tell he was youthful on the outside, but a broken old man on the inside.  
  
And he was filled with wisdom too. Somehow, he related himself to the man next to him. He didn't care for such worries, though. He sat up and looked above once again, the golden sky just waiting to greet him.  
  
The sky twinkled, white stars as bright as a million suns emerging and leaving just as quickly. He frowned. The sky really liked to toy with him. Get his goat. It was succeeding.  
  
He promptly looked down, wandering his eyes about the place he had found by following the sky. The road was winding and narrow, but straight on its path. It sparkled with gold bricks, similar to a timeless movie he'd seen as a child. The grass he sat upon was lucious and green, similar to a field he had seen on Mars when he was a teenager.  
  
But the sky wasn't blue. It bugged him.  
  
He started thinking. He was dead. He was supposed to go to Heaven. And yet he was still here and now sitting against a man with a black outfit almost designed like his own and a gigantic crucifix that seemed to scream either faith or fury. Probably both.  
  
It was then the damn song hit his head. He enjoyed the song back on Mars, but now that he was actually dead, it felt a little gloomy to him. Gloomy, he wasn't exactly positive on. He wasn't positive about a lot of things now that he was dead. It was an adventure to not know everything, but scary at the same time.  
  
He could remember the opening of the song. It almost sounded like Heaven itself. Maybe it was Heaven itself. He wanted to growl. That word again. Maybe. He started to hate that word.  
  
He hated being uncertain. It was just as annoying as the sky above him.  
  
He forgot everything, though, when he remembered the opening of the beautiful song. The flute playing with the guitar, the soft touch of the notes, the winding melody that clutched your very heart and soul into the harmony -- it was a memorable song. Someone told him before a person dies they should listen to Stairway to Heaven. He never knew why, but he was glad he did follow that certain type of advice.  
  
The words popped into his head and he smiled at the meaning. Softly, he began humming the melody line of the song, while in his head he thought out the words. _There's a lady whose sure, all that glitters is gold, and she's buying a stairway to Heaven..._  
  
"So where are you headed?" the man beside him asked, almost hidden behind his large crucifix.  
  
He still looked to the sky. Still gold. The song still played in his head but he could no longer hum. "Stairway to heaven."  
  
"Elevator to hell," he said after a period of silence. He eyed at the man next to him, wondering what expression he had on his face. A chuckled followed as he said casually, "Just kidding."  
  
The ex - bounty hunter smiled. He liked smiling. "With you being a priest, I had a feeling He wouldn't turn you away."  
  
The man chuckled again and began to stand up. The ex - bounty hunter finally took a good look at the man he had just met. Black hair, blue eyes with an ebony outfit, and a faint touch of a beard. A smile dawned his features, similar to his own. His eyes showed wisdom, a past, and faith.  
  
Similar and different to himself. It was frightening and intriguing at the same time. This had to be the reason why he stayed in Judgment. It might have been His plan all along.  
  
Then again, he still wanted that question answered. It bothered him.  
  
The priest picked up his crucifix with ease and lunged it over his shoulder. He flashed a quick grin to him. "Well, hurry up then. We have to get going to the stairway, right?"  
  
He smirked and stood up. He put his hands in his pockets once again, a comfortable, familiar place for them. "Well, I did want to see what Hell was like, but I guess Heaven will do."  
  
The man in the black suit smiled. "As long as they got cigarettes up there, right?"  
  
"Of course," he responded back. They walked off of the grass, the place where they met, and seat off on the golden road made of bricks. The ending dream of the two began as they walked down the winding pathway. He still had the urge to look up again to the sky. Something, however, beat the addiction to the punch.  
  
The song hit his head again. He began to whistle the melody line. In his mind he sighed contentedly. He was finally getting his whistling urges out of his system. Now if he could only get rid of his sky-gazing yearnings then he wouldn't have to be so complacent anymore.  
  
They kept on walking. The man next to him finally took notice of the light sound of humming in the air and glanced his way. "What tune is that?"  
  
He didn't look back at him. "Stairway to Heaven."  
  
The priest smirked. "Ironic."  
  
He smirked as well. "Irony ties with both sides, you know."  
  
"Yeah, I recently figured that out," he answered back, the smirk dropping from his face into a hearty smile. "Nicholas D. Wolfwood."  
  
And the ex - bounty hunter smiled the same way. "Spike Spiegel."  
  
Spike still whistled, the tune stuck in his mind, and the golden sky begging him to find the answer to the question. He wasn't paying attention, though. He kept walking, and whistling, and the man known as Wolfwood merely smiled and kept walking casually alongside him. He looked above to the golden sky and watched it. Spike knew he had to find the answer. Either that or it would eat him up alive in Heaven. He wouldn't have any rest at all.  
  
Peace. Rest. Tranquility.  
  
Spike began to like those words.  
  
He wondered if Wolfwood liked them too.  
  
A question flew across Wolfwood's mind. He sometimes wondered about this. "Do you think Heaven is mundane?" the priest asked him, a look of absolute nonchalantness written on his face.  
  
Spike had the same look. The duo of the dead kept on walking forward, following the winding road to their salvation. "I have no opinion." He gazed sideways to the man next to him. He smiled. "Never seen the damn thing, so how the hell can I judge it?"  
  
"That's true," Wolfwood muttered, and a cozy, happy silence struck between the two souls gone astray from the likes of Heaven.  
  
Scenery of the ancients laid among them, yet they passed them without a care. They had a road to follow, and they wished not to surrender their salvation for a tour of Judgment. Still, with what appeared to be hours passing by, they enjoyed their final march to the gentle golden sky above them.  
  
Together they walked through jungles, deserts, rainforests and next to beaches and canyons, soaking and learning many things as they walked on. Spike wondered if others had the opportunity to take a walk through Judgment as he and Wolfwood were. Wolfwood was thinking about his life and how the others would treat him when he reached his salvation.  
  
It troubled Wolfwood. He would see Milly up there. He sighed softly, remembering the woman that he could have said at least three magic words to her. He could have held her like a child. He could have had her. He wished he could see into the future, at least know the reaction she would give to him for leaving her alone for so long. He knew she wouldn't have peace in Heaven without him. He was her other side. She was his other side. They would both be incomplete.  
  
A hazy glaze falling over his eyes as his chin tilted downwards, the past that reigned within beginning to emerge its unsightly head. How long had he stayed down here and away from Heaven? Did she hate him now? No, she could never hate, just be disappointed...  
  
Spike took note of this change in the priest, recognizing that certain look anywhere. It was the same look he gave himself when he saw his own reflection in mirrors and windows. "Forget it," he whispered, a whisper that would have been highly inaudible if there was a roaring crowd surrounding them. However, he was able to be hear with the two souls of pre-Heaven.  
  
Wolfwood looked at Spike quizzically. "I don't follow."  
  
Spike stopped walking, making Wolfwood stop as well in his tracks. They both looked at each other, Spike nonchalant, Wolfwood curious. A silence overcame the two, the only sound coming from the wind blowing in the sky.  
  
"Forget it," Spike reiterated again. He clarified his sentenced. "Forget the past and leave it behind you."  
  
Wolfwood became a little suspicious, but was still grateful someone could perceive through his soul. "How would you understand what I've been through?"  
  
"It doesn't matter anymore, does it?" Spike asked back, though the way he delivered it sounded more as a fact rather than a question. "We are both dead and we are headed to salvation. Let's leave what we had in the past and let it stay in the past."  
  
Wolfwood wasn't done yet. He glared an unknown emotion to Spike. "But could you have happiness when you still are haunted by those you hurt and killed?"  
  
Spike didn't reply as quick as he wanted to. He sighed softly, running a hand through his hair as he began walking again down the bricked road. Spike knew the typical answer to a question such as that. It was an answer that he should have followed back when he was alive.  
  
He smirked. Irony pays its toll. He shrugged as he walked on, saying as casual as the most friendly hello, "Whatever happens, happens."  
  
Wolfwood, however, didn't smirk. He still followed Spike, but only from the back, trailing behind. "Sometimes, Spike, _you_ have to make whatever you want to happen... happen."  
  
If Spike was moved or even phased a bit by the response from the priest, it didn't show at all on his features. He did, however, lose the smirk that was eminent beforehand.  
  
They didn't talk to each other after that. They walked in silence the whole way, a code of silence between the two. The sky never signaled a change from light to dark, morning to night, dawn to dusk. The sky was confusing, a symbol to the afterlife.  
  
The whole time Spike kept on whistling or humming repeatedly the tune to Stairway to Heaven. It was his final march to the last curtain call. He wouldn't give a damn about how Wolfwood was beginning to get annoyed with the song. It was his theme song.  
  
Days, months, or even years passed them by. Wolfwood didn't know anymore. Time was such a fickle thing. There was one thing he did know. That song was getting on his nerves. Very badly. He walked right up to Spike and was again standing next to him. "Could you please stop whistling that song?"  
  
"Hell no," Spike retorted, going back into the melody line yet again.  
Wolfwood gave a look to Spike, and was about to say something back, until he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head around and stopped instantly. Spike stopped as well.  
  
Right in front of them was the stairway to Heaven.  
  
It was more grand and extravagant than they could ever fathom. Spike and Wolfwood's mouths dropped as their eyes wandered up the golden steps that melted with the golden road they walked on for miles and miles. It climbed up stories never hear or seen of in their entire lifetime. It soared through the golden sky, the sky that haunted Spike's mind for what appeared to be years.  
  
And at the top, the two could see the most brilliant and welcoming light imaginable.  
  
"Holy shit," Spike muttered, absolutely in awe of the thing he and Wolfwood had to climb up.  
  
"You can say that again," Wolfwood said, in a tone of surprise like Spike's. He sighed and got a better hang on his Cross Punisher. "We might as well start walking up there."  
  
Spike nodded silently, the two walking side to side one more time as they began to go near the stairway, the steps that would lead them to salvation.  
  
The stairway was more than normal. Aside from its longevity, it had no rails and no spirals or turns. It was a long way up, going step by step higher into the clouds until reaching the light that welcomed any good soul. The steps were designed in gold and silver and a color neither Wolfwood nor Spike could identify. It was a color that matched the mystery of the afterlife.  
  
Spike didn't whistle anymore. He and Wolfwood kept walking up the stairway, side by side, brothers in arms as they headed for the fatal battle ahead of them. They didn't talk, as they normally did, thinking in the silence they knew and enjoyed.  
  
Details were not needed between the two. They both knew what lied ahead. They didn't need to speak words anymore. It was obsolete.  
  
The two men never stopped walking, moving higher and higher into the clouds. They never perspired or went under fatigue, both determined to make it to the top. The duo had their families, waiting and wishing for them to come to their new home in the afterlife for God knows how long. It was the fuel that fed the fire burning inside their hearts.  
  
It ended all too soon, though. Before they knew it, they reached the top. There was nothing special awaiting them. Only the light that was the end of the journey for the two of them.  
  
Spike and Wolfwood gazed upon the light, which was actually split into two doorways. Down at the bottom they couldn't see the split because of the brightness The ex - bounty hunter stood in front of one, and the wandering priest stood in front of the other. Both peered into the light, and both couldn't believe what they saw.  
  
On either side was their families, waiting to see them.  
  
Julia waiting for Spike. Milly for Wolfwood.  
  
All of their friends were waiting on the side, on their Heaven, just for them. Spike and Wolfwood looked at each other, a feeling deep inside of them saying they wouldn't see each other again. They both gazed and glared and gawked, losing their emotions quick and began just staring at one another.  
  
After years of hush, Spike finally broke the chain. "I guess this is it," he whispered, a small smile on his face.  
  
Wolfwood laughed softly. "Guess so, Spike."  
  
Both began to think, deep in thought, the two now staring at the salvation that laid ahead. Their faces were grim and nonchalant, even though a life of happiness was finally in their grasp. For a second or two they appeared like twins, carbon copies of one another, yet highly different in certain traits and ideals and worlds.  
  
Spike looked at Wolfwood, and saw the light of his salvation bouncing off of his features. Vaguely, a rare smile replaced the anguish hidden within Wolfwood, and the priest looked at Spike.   
  
A question crossed his mind about why did he even talk to Spike in the first place, but he quickly pushed it aside. Everything was irrevelant and useless now, except for this moment.  
  
"It's sad," Wolfwood bemused. Spike was about to raise an eyebrow and inquire a question, but Wolfwood's curt laugh of irony stopped him. "Sad that we have been on a journey all this time and... we never spoke to one another."  
  
Spike chuckled, and corrected Wolfwood. "Technically, we did, but not constantly."  
  
Wolfwood kept the genuine smile. If his friends would have been around, they would have been shocked. It was a rare sight, but he wouldn't have cared. He shook his head and looked at the light from his salvation. "You know, I'll never know everything about you, Spike Spiegel."  
  
"And I'll never know everything about you too, Nicholas D. Wolfwood," Spike stated. He paused shortly, until a smile similar to Wolfwood's crept on his face, the two of them twins with the smiles they portrayed. "I guess... that's the way it's supposed to be, isn't it?"  
  
Wolfwood moved his attention to Spike again. The question was a fact, not an inquiry. A chuckled emerged. "And this all happened when you tripped over my Cross Punisher!"  
  
Spike laughed as well, yet harder and more forced. "Yeah! I was like an idiot, staring at the stupid sky!" he exclaimed, and moved his head upwards. "Stupid gold sky! You forced me to do this!"  
  
"Oh my God!" Wolfwood exclaimed, clutching his stomach in pain. "That's got to be the most idiotic statement I've heard in my lifetime!"  
  
"I know!" Spike shouted back, breathing hard and trying to stop himself from laughing.   
  
Neither could stop, and tears began to form on the sides of their faces. By then, both were into fits of laughter, guffawing and snerking like six-year-old boys who pulled a prank or teenage kids who finally pulled a fast one on the school bully.   
  
They knew the truth. They both knew why they were laughing so hard. Neither wanted to waste time, but being in each other's company served a purpose. Their laughter served as a way of forgiveness and peace. Both were parallel to one another, and the twins knew that they had to let out their sins and anguish before entering their worlds.  
  
Slowly their laughter that echoed all throughout Judgment died down slowly. They finally caught their breaths, and composed themselves. Wolfwood was the first to calm down, with Spike following after.  
  
A grin graced the bounty hunter's features. "Oh man, I haven't laughed that hard since I was alive," he said, laughter still evident in his voice.   
  
Wolfwood had his own unique grin, and looked at Spike. "Really?" he asked, curious. "And when was that?"  
  
Spike closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. The grin was still there, but was there with a purpose now. "Before I died."  
  
Wolfwood refused to laugh. He bit his own lip. The irony was too great to resist, but he had enough will power, and common sense, to be quiet.  
  
He sighed, and leaned back on his right leg. "You know Spike, when I was alive," he began, gazing up at the gold sky above, "people told me not to take advantage of the things life had to offer." He rose his eyebrows, looked back at Spike and smirked. "I never did listen."  
  
Spike shook his head in irony. "I never did either. I'm a lunkhead, as people said it."  
  
"That word can sum me up, too," Wolfwood joked, with the two of them laughing harder at the end. It died down, and a silence echoed after their outbursts.  
  
Both took in their forms, how similar yet different they were, and knowing they wouldn't get this chance again. Heaven was their final resting place. After leaving these grounds, neither of them could go back, because neither would ever want to.  
  
Spike bit his lip. "No regrets," he breathed.  
  
Wolfwood's left eye narrowed slightly, and he forced down a grin. "None at all."  
  
Spike sighed contentedly, as if he just confessed a great sin, and moved his head towards Wolfwood's salvation. "You better get going, Wolfwood. They're waiting for you."  
  
Wolfwood nodded and still smirked at Spike. "The same with you, Spike."  
  
As Wolfwood began walking into the light, Spike began to feel a sense of sadness entering his heart. He didn't know why, but he shouldn't have kept that code of silence between himself and the priest. They had met for a reason. Everything in the afterlife has a reason, a destiny, a fate. Fate brought them together, and he didn't pay attention.  
  
He smiled as he began to see Wolfwood's body become a black silhouette in the brightness of the light. It was over. However, a question that had been bothering him since the beginning entered his mind one last time. He rolled his eyes in idiocy and absolute irony, not believing he was about to ask Wolfwood this question, but he at least had to get some sort of answer.  
  
"Hey, Wolfwood!" Spike called out to the priest.  
  
The priest stopped, but didn't turn around. "What, Spike?"  
  
"Why do you think the sky is gold instead of blue?" he asked as innocent and guileless as he could muster.  
  
He saw Wolfwood's shoulders shrug and he moved on, not looking back. "Is there an angry unicorn on the dark side of the moon?"  
  
The light faded, and so did Wolfwood's form. Spike blinked, not in surprise, but in absolute realism. He knew the answer and it was uncertain. Irony paid its toll in the afterlife, he thought once more as he gazed into his doorway and his salvation waiting on the other side.  
  
Spike Spiegel placed his hands in his pockets and walked through, singing a song that he knew by heart. Yet, as he was halfway through the door, he felt something inside the warmth of his back pocket and fumbled with it for a second. He took his hand out and found a cigarette, never been used once, yet was limp and crumpled from abuse.  
  
He smiled contentedly, and took out his oil lighter. One more time he did his ritual -- lighting the cigarette and taking in its contents. However, after he blew out the lovely toxins, he gazed upon the white stick that gave him such a release from reality.  
  
But that was when he was alive.  
  
He threw it to the ground and walked through the door.  
  
The sky was still gold, not blue; yet, he didn't care, not anymore.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
